Atramedes
by I'm kinda drunk
Summary: Oneshot about the blind Dragon in Blackwing Deapths. Ever notice how he's the first one, Nefarion actually gets angry at that you kill. Theres a reasn for that.


The cries of pitiful experiments were like the finest of symphonies in the ears of one Lord Victor Nefarious. He rested on a high backed dwarven throne that had been taken from the city below his kingdom. Eyes, closed, a sharp smirk on his pale lips, told either he was deep in thought or simply enjoying the screams that echoed faintly from below him.

"My Lord, I am here!" The sniveling voice of the once brilliant alchemist Maloriak cried out, ruining Nefarious' quiet enjoyment.

The half human dragon creature fumbled awkwardly as he ran into the room, his arms laden with glass vials bubbling dangerous with red and black ooze along with several parchments that threatened to fall to the stone floor.

Victor gave a well menacing growl, one that a human throat should not have been able to conjure as he glared at the bumbling scientist. "Finally. Now, what is it that you claim is so damned important to show me?"

Proudly, the creature that was Maloriak puffed out his contorted sunken chest, as much as he could, before holding up one of the black vials he'd brought along. "I have finally done it, my lord! I've created a serum that will make all the dragons you transform into near unstoppable beast of power and destruction! I present to you subject 2137664-D." Turning back to the door, Maloriak yelled out in his annoying whinny voice. "Atramedes, your master beckons."

Sinking in his throne, Victor watched, slightly curious, more amused, at the show Maloriak was putting on. A tiny twilight dragon flapped excitedly into the room. It was a recently born whelp, by the tiny squeaks it made and the sheer excitement it got out of flying. His twilight hide was vibrant against the darkness of the room, like a beacon, his wide eyes were like golden orbs, curious about everything they fell upon. Victor couldn't help but smirk behind his hand as the tiny dragon did barrel rolls and flips in the air attempting to show off its new found skill until it finally arrived at the alchemist.

Stroking the young dragons head, the scientist began to explain. "Now that my genius has developed this serum, it will enhance all the primary skill of any young dragon." Then, without another word, Maloriak undid the cork of the vial he held in his clawed grasp and dumped the entire serum on the oblivious Atramedes.

It was obvious, at first glance, Atramedes was in pain. Not that either Maloriak of Victor cared of course, but it was an interesting affect. The black liquid absorbed into his skin, and for a moment nothing happened. Suddenly, the young dragon gave an agonized cry and fell limp to the ground, twitching.

Leaning forward in his chair, Victor watched the rest of the serum take effect. The once purplish hide had transformed a dull gray, flaking off in some places. Atramedes whimpered pitifully as he struggled to flap his wings. With some effort, he finally managed to get airborne, but simply flew in small circles crying out pitifully.

He was blind. Victor knew instantly, and somewhere deep in his black soul had a tiny inkling of pity for the dragon.

Beside Victor, Maloriak was muttering excuses as always for his failed potions. "I…I don't know what went wrong, by all my reports it should have rendered him near invincible."

"Another failed experiment, you bumbling idiot, you've hurt instead of helped. Can't you see, you've made it blind?" Victor grumbled, fairly displeased, but not in the least surprised.

"Blind?" Maloriak echoed. Upon further inspection by the alchemist he found indeed it was true. Thinking to gain at least some good graces from his master, he took out a rather sharp scalpel from a pack. "Allow me to dispatch of the useless thing quickly then."

"No." Victor commanded, surprising both himself and Maloriak.

Why had he stopped the scientist? The dragon in front of him would probably have no useful purposes.

"No." He said again more securely. "Keep him alive for further observation maybe that failed potion of yours did do something to him."

"Yes, my lord." Maloriak nodded reaching out to grab his failed experiment.

To Victor's amusement and Maloriaks pain, the dragon bit the half breed alchemist on the finger, drawing blood for turning him into a freak. Maloriak struck out at the whelp, but much to Victors surprised it was dodged with ease. That had been interesting, very interesting.

Late in the night when Victor Nefarious transformed into his true self Nefarion, son of Neltharion, he was extremely tired. Plotting the doom of worlds with the most horrendous of creatures was very exhausting work. Now in his dragon form the humungous dragon lay in the center of his entire complex, tail tucked behind him, claws stretched out comfortably. On the other corner of the huge space his sister, Onyxia lay prone in a deep coma while machines hooked to her bulk kept her breathing. Usually he ignored the sounds of whirling metal and her heavy breathing, but tonight there was another. It was the sound of a baby dragon wandering his kingdom.

Nefarion bit back a heavy curse, that idiot Maloriak had either forgotten to lock its cage securely or the whelp had figured out a way to escape, in either case, it was roaming free and headed into his direction.

It wasn't long till the steady flapping of tiny wings found its way down to Nefarion who tried with all his might to ignore the whelp and get to sleep, yet he couldn't. He could feel the curious little fellow bump his nose on Nefarions tough hide probably wondering what sort of dragon it was. Did Atramedes think it was a female dragon, a mother maybe? The thought brought a steady chuckle from deep in Nefarions gut. Whatever he thought he was, perhaps the babe would leave him alone if he simply ignored him. Without warning though, the tiny razor sharp fangs of the whelp sunk into Nefarions tail causing the elder dragon to yip in pain. Immediately the pain ceased and he could sense the babe moving closer to his face.

"Clever, very clever." Nefarion chuckled as he spoke in the ancient tongue of dragons to the young Atramedes. He had bitten him to find his face.

He watched as the young one flew in front of his face, crowing triumphantly. In an instant the young one had positioned himself in the tiny opening between where Nefarions head lay and the claw which he rested it on. Snuggling in comfortably for sleep, the dragon instantly readied for slumber beside the monolithic beast beside him.

"No, no, no, no, no." Nefarion growled trying to push the whelp away. He didn't care how scared the young one was, he was not going to let him sleep there. He could just see his father arriving on the morrow and laughing his giant metal head off at the sight of a baby dragon curled up comfortably beside him as he would see a mother do with her young.

For long minutes he tried pushing the whelp away, scaring him, even reasoning, but the whelp would have none of it. Why hadn't he just killed him? Nefarion wondered. He would be out of his hair and would stop annoying him. But for some reason or another he couldn't bring himself to do it. In fact, he wondered why he wasn't angry about the intrusion at all.

"Alright, alright, you can sleep here, but if I hear one peep out of you, I'm me feeding you to my sister for breakfast."

With that, Nefarion laid his head down allowing the young Atramedes to find a spot close beside him.

"And by the way, this is never happening again." Nefarion, added on before they fell asleep.

Now, looking at the body lying limp and unmoving on the cold stone, his large bulk prone before a number of Horde champion who'd found themselves into the Blackwing Depths, Nefarion couldn't help but feel rage stir within him.

"You will pay dearly for that!" He growled angrily, his voice echoing through the kingdom.

From life to death, he had watched Atramedes grow, and now he was dead. Walking away to make arrangements for the intruder doom, the lord of Blackwing finally new what heartbreak was like.


End file.
